Folly
by Frenesi.Z
Summary: When SG-1 is grounded for a few days Daniel decides it's a good time to look up an old friend from England ... what else does one use a vacation for but reminiscing with an old friend who has a helpful talent for dead languages? ;
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Of course I didn't create any of these characters, shows, ect… I own nothing and get no $$ but I do have fun playing with them ;)

Buffy-verse - takes place Season 2 after What's My Line 1 + 2;

Star-Gate - early seasons where every your heart is content to stick them.

All mistakes are mine; if any one is interested in Beta-ing I'd appreciate it.

1.

"Daniel, will you tell Carter how much fun we're going to have fishing in MInnesota?"

Daniel looked up from his texts, fingers holding his places in two separate books, to see Jack and Sam in his doorway, Sam looking rather like Jack had shanghaied her on her way to her own lab. Sam was regarding Jack with badly concealed irritation, which, Daniel supposed, was as vocal as Sam would be to her CO that she wasn't going for whatever Jack had up his sleeve.

"We're, ah, going fishing?" Daniel turned his gaze back to Jack, Jack wearing one of his forcefully happy grins.

" 'Course we are Jackson. What else do men do when given a week of leave? Teal'c is already packing…"

Daniel resisted rolling his eyes, "That's because you've never dragged Teal'c out to your pond in the middle of no where, set him up with a pole, and let him sit with his line out before finally admitting after four days there are no fish in the pond…"

Jack huffed in irritation, "Lake, Daniel… and I keep telling you, the joy of fishing is _fishing_, that's why it's called _fishing,_ not _catching_."

Daniel flicked his eyes to Sam during Jack's theatrical defense of his notion of fishing; Sam had one of her looks she seemed to keep in stock for Jack, one that said she found it amusing, enduring even, but that if she was going fishing she was coming back with something to show for her time… And knowing Sam, she would catch nothing less than a fish worth mounting.

"Jack, as much as I enjoy the great Minnesotan outdoors, I've made other plans."

Jack swung his gaze to Sam and she simply shrugged her shoulders, both turning back to Daniel, waiting for him to share: "I'm going to visit an old friend, recently moved to California."

"Daniel, you old dog, you have friends? You meet on a dig in some dry, sandy place in your past?" Jack grinned.

"No, a damp, foggy one: England; London actually" Daniel supplied. "He was the curator of the British Museum."

Interest fled from Jack's gaze but Sam still looked on, attentive. "Ah, well, you don't know what you're missing" Jack chastised, turning to Sam, opening his mouth as she crisply cut him off, "You and Teal'c enjoy your _fishing_, Sir."

"You don't know how relaxing it can be until you try it…" Jack enticed.

Sam lifted her armful of binders, books, and paperwork, "Maybe next time. I've promised myself some time to work of the implications of the technology we found of P3X-223 and see if I can develop any practical applications for - "

"Carter, enough; Daniel, we leave tonight if you change your mind…"

Daniel shook his head, "No. I have a few of my own projects" Daniel nodded to a box partially packed with texts, one that these two would eventually make their way into.

Jack made a disgusted noise, "No one here knows what a vacation is… One day" Jack threatened, waiving his finger around, "One day I'm going to make all four of us go on a vacation and it will be mandatory. I'll have Hammond make it orders. I know _he_ likes fishing…" Jack turned heal, moving off down the hallway.

Daniel and Sam shared a look. "How long to you think Teal'c will last?"

Sam smiled, "Teal'c might like it. Or, he'll force Jack to take him back to civilization with in forty-eight hours. To bad they don't charter something, go to the boundary waters where the real fishing is."

Daniel grinned, "I think I have a book somewhere about the boundary waters. I'll give it to him before I go."

Sam met Daniel's wolfish smile with her own, "Might do Jack some good. Or Teal'c might enjoy seeing Lake Superior. Swing by my office before you go see Teal'c off."

Daniel nodded, "Will do. And enjoy your week off, Sam."

Sam shifted her load, "You do the same. What are you working on?"

"I've kept records of some native languages that I've had problems translating. I seem to be on the right track, but grammar and the contextual markers aren't landing in any coherence… Giles always had rather a genius for ancient and esoteric languages, I'm hoping he and I might put our heads together and come up with something…"

"And where will you tell him the text is from?"

He shared a commiserating look with her, "He'll respect when I say I can't say."

Sam raised a brow, "I don't know many who will back off finding the source of something as fascinating as what we bring back"

Daniel relaxed forward, leaning on his forearms and keeping his fingers in their places, remembering his friend: "Giles will. He is a man, I sense, who respects secrets."

Sam considered Daniel, considered this, "He was the curator of the British Museum?"

Daniel nodded.

"What is he doing in California?"

Daniel grinned, recognizing Sam picking up pieces to a new puzzle. "I never asked. We've kept in touch, writing back and forth, trading bits of translations over the years. I wrote him when I returned from Abydos. After a couple of months he wrote back saying he had just moved state side, sending a new address."

"Is he in L.A.?"

"No, a small town on the coast up the 101, a couple of hours north of LA; Sunnydale." Daniel dangled another bit of the puzzle that was Giles in front of her. He'd always enjoyed the man's company, Giles being one of the few he'd tried his theories of Egyptian Pyramids originating in outer space. Giles had sipped his scotch, nodded along, fiddled with his glasses, rolled up his sleeves and pointed out occasional inaccuracies in his Egyptian translations but listened and nodded and "hmmm"ed along, letting Daniel into any vault he wanted with in the museum and even providing access to some storage Daniel wouldn't have know to ask for.

Giles had never ripped the idea to shreds, although Daniel always left with the feeling Giles knew things he wasn't sharing; like how he'd never weighed in one way or the other on Daniel's revolutionary hypothesis… like how he'd never even seemed to have an opinion on the radical hypothesis. Like Daniel had said, Giles was a man who respected secrets… And Sam was, at heart, someone who thoroughly enjoyed diving the source of things and understanding mysteries.

"Sunnydale?" She repeated.

Daniel didn't doubt she'd en-mass a small search around Giles, The British Museum, and Sunnydale. He wondered what she'd find. He nodded, "Sunnydale."

"Sounds like a nice place to spend your week off." Sam smiled at him. "Enjoy the beach and sun."

Daniel had a brief, horrifying mental vision of himself shirtless in tropical, brightly colored board shorts, standing beside a blunt surf board, and the beach boys blasting in the background. And then one of Giles, similarly dressed, stiff and british beside him, perhaps muttering "Good Lord, Man" at Daniel for producing such an image in his head.

Daniel came back to Sam taking her leave, and Daniel turned back to his texts, trying to forget what his brain had just thrown up inside his head. Truly disturbing; what ever Giles was doing, Daniel doubted Giles had thrown off his head to become a Cali beach bum. He thought, if there was ever an event overwhelming enough for Giles to throw his hands up at God and turn away from man, Giles would retire himself to a small cottage on the foggy coasts of England and drink himself to uselessness; not don neon colored apparel, tan, and flirt up women in the unrelenting cheeriness of California. There were just certain things a british man didn't do; at least not that one…


	2. Chapter 2

2.

Daniel blinked at the brightness of the small airport that was mostly glass and metal, feeling very modern and open to the bright, sunlit sky. He slung his carry on bag over his shoulder, shifting with the weight, centering it over his back. He'd moved the texts in their protective covering to his carry-on, not wanting to chance them being lost in the shuffle of changing baggage.

He needed to buy sunglasses. Daniel supposed he spent too much time in the mountain, or off world, as he found his hand reaching for where his sunglasses might be if he were geared up on mission. Right now, Sam, Teal'c and Jack would all be scanning the area, Jack making some irritating, juvenile remark about the local flora to which Daniel would obligingly retort.

Daniel looked above, squinting in the light, finding the signs directing passengers to the baggage claim. Daniel nodded to the passengers moving around him, making his way down the hall, stopping at a bank of public phones. It would take a few moments to get the passengers' bags off the plane and to the baggage area. He dug in his pocket for change, letting his bag fall to his feet as he tucked himself into the first phone booth.

He dropped in the change, lifting the phone to his shoulder, punching in a set of numbers. The line rang, rang, rang, and rang. A machine answered, "Rupert Giles. Do leave your name and number and I will return your call when able. Thank you."

"Hi. This is Daniel. I'll try your other number."

Daniel hung up, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, unfolding it to gather a piece of paper he'd torn off of a report on which he'd written a second number for Giles above Giles' home address. He pressed enough change into the phone for a new call, dialed the second number, and put the phone back to his ear, listening to it ring, ring, ri-

"Sunnydale High Library" a chippy, female voice answered.

Daniel took a moment to stare at the phone in his hand, then at the number he'd scribbled, finally replacing the phone at his ear, "I'm calling for Rupert Giles?"

"Are you one of Giles' friends?" the voice asked, a girl, considerably less cheery than a second ago, "From England?" and in the back ground he heard, _Cordelia, do give me the phone_… that was Rupert, at least he had the right number…

"I suppose" Daniel replied.

"Oh" the voice replied shortly, then off the line, "_Giles, it's for you. He doesn't sound British, but I'm not sticking around to find out_" -

"_Cordelia, really_" - "Giles, here" was spoken into the line.

Daniel smiled, "Hi. It's Daniel."

"Oh, Daniel, you're here" his old friend said pleasantly, and hearing the calming tones of his friend speaking it occurred to Daniel how long it had been since they had seen each other… he heard off line "_Cordelia, you may leave if you don't wish to help. I believe you're supposed to be in History right now?"_

"You are here, yes?" Giles spoke again down the line.

Daniel pushed up his own glasses, "I am. I'm at the airport. I've just arrived."

"Good, good - _I'll write you a pass - _Sorry Daniel," there was a pause, and Daniel tried to put the man he knew curating the British Museum, glad handing patrons, organizing exhibits, to a high school library in a small town in California. "Daniel, do you mind taking a cab to my address? The door isn't locked; just let yourself in, make yourself at home. We'll go out for dinner. Seven sound good?"

Daniel glanced at the clock. It was just after one. He was rather eager to meet with Giles now that he was finally in the same state, same town, but he wasn't going to be an impolite guest. "Seven sounds fine."

_Does he like Mexican? What will Miss Calendar say? _

_Do you mind?_ Giles retorted to the voices heckling on the far side of the line; then, to Daniel "I'll come by and pick you up?"

Daniel nodded, glancing at the paper in his hand, "524 Oak Park. #5?"

"Yes. Have the driver leave you off on the beginning of the block. It's the lower left corner of the complex. There's a small court yard in the center with a fountain. Like I said, help your self. The guest bed is rather small, on the first floor behind the kitchen, but its ready."

"Is the complex gated?" Daniel asked, now digging out his luggage claim tickets.

"Hm?"

"You said your door is unlocked, is the complex gated? Do I need a code to get in?" Daniel elaborated.

"No. Nothing like that." A bell going off sounded and background noise picked up, Giles suffering a sigh over the line, "I do hate to do this but I'll collect you shortly and then we can make a meal and catch up properly, yes? Just call this number if you have any problems."

"I'll be fine," Daniel assured.

"Right. 'Ta for now" _really Xander, must you - _and the line was dead. Daniel replaced the phone in its cradle, and briefly considered calling Sam, seeing what she'd come up with on who she found Rupert Giles to be and what he might be doing in California. He was rather curious for her take on the matter, but instead, slung the poundage of his bag back across his shoulders and rejoined the people moving away.

Rupert sounded different. Daniel wasn't sure if it was years or place, but Rupert sounded better than he had ever sounded to Daniel before in a way Daniel wouldn't be able to put his finger on… Daniel took his time, pulling his bag off the partially emptied, spinning carousel, moving out of doors, breathing in the air full of palm, hibiscus and ocean, so different from the dry, mountain pine of Colorado Springs, waiving over a cab. The driver nodded at the address and Daniel supposed in a town this size every road and alley way were easily memorable.

The town they drove into was lined by palms and parkways, and Daniel again was wishing he had sun glasses. It was a brief ride, and soon Daniel was standing on broad bladed grass beside a Yucca, paying the driver, turning around as the car pulled back onto the street.

The collection of apartments built over each other was stuccoed cream with bright terra-cotta tiled roof and spanish colonial arches. Palms and bushes created a privacy barrier, and Daniel walked up the sidewalk until he found the stuccoed arch that marked with a 5, 6, 7, 8 and ducked under it. Beyond was a brick walk way that lead to four units, the lower left, up and down a set of stairs, unit 5.

Daniel carried his luggage up and down the small stairs, enjoying the shadows and curves of the mission revival architecture as it wrapped him away from the sun, arriving at the solid wooden door with its iron hardware in its niche. He tried the latch, feeling the bolt shift and swung the door open.

His friend really hadn't locked the door.

He stepped inside, swinging the door shut at his back, hearing the latch settle itself into the jamb. Inside, the walls were a shadow of cool green, the sun shining in at an abrupt slant to the floor from southern facing windows. A desk immediately to his left, a small sitting area beyond, and to his immediate right were a set of tiled stairs that lead upwards to a spacious loft. Daniel noted a bed and a dresser above, open to the room, and stepping further in, he let his carry on rest on the chair just inside the door in front of the coat rack.

Daniel continued in, looking over the pass-thru to a small kitchen. Rupert had said his guest room was behind the kitchen, and Daniel walked forward into Rupert's home. He'd never seen the man's home in London, but had spent many hours in Rupert's office in the Museum, and this condominium felt at once strange and familiar to Daniel.

Passing by the kitchen to a small, arched hall, Daniel discovered the bathroom and beyond it, a small room just big enough to fit a full bed and a dresser, and, of course, more books on another set of shelves. Daniel had already noted cases of books along the wall in the sitting room, texts covering the desk at the door, and books stacked on the table backing the couch.

Daniel let his suitcase rest on the bed. He considered himself. It was an hour behind here, and he had dressed rather lightly in denim and a long sleeved shirt; he decided he was still comfortable after hours in transit and a good ambient ten degrees warmer in California than Colorado. He turned to considered the books on the shelves at the foot of the bed, the shelves shoved into a corner next to a short dresser with just enough clearance so one might stand straight against the bed and pull open a drawer.

Maybe it made a kind of sense that Giles was working in a high school library, although how exactly Daniel couldn't say beyond being surrounded by books.

The books in front of him were Latin mainly, and if he was right, Latin dictionaries for translations of Hellenic, Armenian and Albanian language families, and, lower, a few old books in those language families. Daniel crouched low, peering on the lowest shelf, letting his finger brush over spines, pulling out a text of gently. It look like it was bound in the seventeen hundreds, and looked to be written in Illyrian with Albanian transcription beside it if he was correct, and he rather thought he was.

Eager to further explore his friend's collection, Daniel took to his feet and headed for his own texts. The apartment was silent, no noise from neighbors filtering thru windows or the street beyond, and Daniel was rather glad his friend had not seen fit to lock tight his space and condition the air, but Daniel supposed the rest of the neighbors had. As he moved, he opened windows wider, feeling a cross breeze move thru, stirring the air agreeably.

He opened his sack on the pass thru, unwrapping two booklets of carefully copied texts from walls off world and an agrarian bound book that might contain nothing more than planting wisdom, a farmer's almanac from P1X-113 but Daniel wanted it translated no matter what it held curious about the people who made it, adding three of his own texts he'd collected here on Earth and had been referencing himself for these particular translations.

His stomach rumbled at him, calling his attention elsewhere then the riches of languages at his fingertips. It was nearly two, Daniel saw, glancing at a wall clock perched atop the chair by the door, a whimsical thing. Dinner would be some six hours in the future, by the time they were sitting and eating, and breakfast had been too early, coffee and a bagel as he was packing his toiletries.

Daniel walked around the counter into the kitchen-nook. On the other side, it was more open feeling than he imagined, rather comfortable and well laid out, and, feeling self conscious, he pulled open the refrigerator. The refrigerator lit up obligingly, its motor humming as cool air spilled down and out. Inside was also well organized. He pulled out bread and deli wrapped cold cuts, unwrapping the paper to find roast beef. Setting both on the counter, Daniel collected mustard, a head of lettuce, and cheese, and set about making himself a sandwich, plating it up with a thought to go grocery shopping.

He took his plate back to the other side of the counter, pausing before deciding to eat in the sitting area. He looked around, seeing no t.v., but a rather extensive record collection and a record player. He slid his plate onto the coffee table, moving over to the cases of records, thumbing thru cover after cover, finding a mix of classical, opera, and original releases from the best of the London's Rock scene thru the seventies…

Thumbing back to the classical, Daniel pulled out a recording of Schubert he remembered listening to as a child with his mother. He let the record settle on the turn table carefully, feeling nostalgic the moment he lifted the arm and let the needle lay on the outer ring of the vinyl.

Music moving thru the space of the room, Daniel returned to the couch, lifting up a Sunnydale paper and laying it out over the coffee table. It was folding open to the back pages, police reports and obituaries, and Daniel noticed red pen asterisking over a couple of memorials, glancing over the brief tribute to a stylist and a banker and he wondered if Rupert had gotten to know these two, like perhaps one tends to in a town this size …

Daniel reshuffled the pages so he was open to the front page, reading the headline "Mayor of Sunnydale and Boy Scout Troop #594 clean up the Bay Shore" and a black and white picture of smiling boys and a congenial, middle aged man. Daniel couldn't help smiling looking at the photo, the ocean at their backs, a clean beach at their feet, and feel sentimental for small town life…


	3. Chapter 3

Before you get on to 3:

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! for the review and the adds. Obviously I'm fresh. Thank you for all the feed back and two things: yes, Daniel mainly calls Giles "Rupert" but I couldn't resist the cheep thrill of name dropping in 1 (so shame on me) and I always appreciate constructive feed back; as I noted, I'd love to have someone Beta.

I guarantee this is a complete work. I'm just doing my best to polish before I post. (And I have an inkling of a sequal - shhh…. don't frighten it away)

Hope everyone enjoys:

3.

Daniel startled as the door opened behind him. He swung around, rising up an inch, and found Rupert entering. Daniel relaxed at once, standing up from the couch, leaving papers and books open on the coffee table.

"Daniel; Sorry, I'm later than I had hoped to be" Giles greeted, shutting the door with a foot. In two steps Daniel met Rupert at the end of the couch, reaching out a hand to shake that turned into a firm hug.

"Look at you" Rupert stated, standing back, still holding Daniel's arm, "You look like you're doing well."

Daniel nodded, grinning, looking over Rupert himself. "I am."

"I was rather worried after you went public with your hypothesis about the Egyptian Pyramids. No one heard a thing from you for over a year."

Daniel shrugged his shoulders, "Yes. That did not go well" he acknowledged.

Rupert took a step, unloading his own brief case onto the table behind the couch next shrugging off the tweed jacket, "Did you expect anything less? Especially in London? Half of academia there are only Politically Correct Imperialists -even if they don't admit it to themselves."

Daniel shook his head helplessly, "Doesn't mean my hypothesis is wrong".

Rupert leaned back on his heals, sizing up his friend, grinning briefly. "So you say. -Just a tick." Rupert headed up the stairs to the loft. "I just want something more comfortable to wear. How do you feel about Mexican? It's not Indian but I've been wanting for something spicy, and Mexican is the best this town doe." he" continued talking, Daniel turning away as he realized Rupert was pulling off his sweater vest. "I suppose it's because the last time we saw each other we were both in London and London is second only to India itself for Indian cuisine-" Rupert's tone muffled as clothing passed over his head, and a moment later, Daniel heard the tap of shoes coming back down the stairs.

"Mexican sounds fine." Daniel turned, taking in Rupert in a crisp, lightly striped white shirt, and Rupert was unbuttoning the sleeves, rolling them up his fore arms, already heading for the door.

"So, what are you doing in California?" Daniel asked as he passed by Rupert holding open the door and received a disgruntled look: "I'm the librarian at the High School."

Daniel stuttered, missing the step, and was caught by a friendly, firm hand on his back, propelling him for an ancient powdered blue citroen. "How did you become the Librarian?" Daniel choked out, managing to keep his feet under him until he was standing over the junker, pressing in the button on the handle to release the passenger side door, watching Rupert walk around and pull open his own door.

Rupert gave another smile over the roof of the car, this one sympathetic to Daniel's befuddled stare, "There was a sudden opening and I was needed."

Rupert slid into the drivers side and inserted the key, the engine coughing and choking turning noisily life, and finally Daniel pulled open his door sliding into his own seat. The car gurgled and lurched forward, Rupert flipping on the lights in the against the beginning of dusk while Daniel twisted around to looked back at the street behind him, not reassured by the faint blue exhaust farting out the back of the car.

Californians must really love this old beast of a car, Daniel thought to himself, glancing to Rupert, and it occurred to him maybe Rupert had chosen the car for a particular reason… Why did a man suddenly up end a position at the British Museum for a nominal career in a small town half a world away?

"So, tell me about what you've been doing" Rupert spoke over the car.

Daniel recalled his recent years, "After I was laughed out of London I came back state side, continued my work."

Rupert nodded along, the way Daniel remembered, "And now you found some translations you want help with?" Rupert offered.

Daniel nodded, "I did."

"Are these further evidence towards your hypothesis on the pyramids?" Rupert asked amiably, but Daniel could sense an undercurrent in Rupert's tone.

"No. Actually, this is for something else."

Tension in the car Daniel had barely even noticed suddenly released and the ease Daniel felt now was enormous by comparison.

"So what are you working on?" Rupert looked across the cabin to Daniel, his countenance briefly illuminated by passing cars in the ambient street light. Daniel's friend looked animated in a way Daniel never remembered: sure he looked tired, a tired that came from infrequent sleeping, and his hair was less than a couple of years past, and he looked harder, but he looked animated, Daniel thought: engaged.

"Will you forgive me if I can't say?" Daniel asked.

A glint lit Rupert's eyes, "Did you talk yourself onto a new dig?"

Daniel shook his head, grinning himself, "Not quite. After my little talk in London, a government car pulled up and asked if it'd be interested in working as a translator. It seems, in the course of carrying out missions, troops often come upon relics, and the United States Government has an interest in understanding their worth before handing them back" Daniel rattled off the spiel he'd spun for any of his old colleagues who asked what he was about nowadays; it was an easier sell than "Deep Space Radar Telemetry".

Rupert nodded along, "P.C. Imperialists" he commiserated. "Hope the pay is brilliant."

Daniel though of his nearly untouched bank account. It was rather large; "Its good enough."

"Do American Soldiers happen upon enough to keep you interested?" Rupert asked.

Daniel only wished he might tell the actual source of the languages, wanting Rupert's input as a fellow archeologist and anthropologist, but settled for nodding, "Enough. What I've brought with me I'm having trouble placing. It looks like an ancient form of Phoenician, but I'm having problems with the context, maybe it's highly changed dialect. I hope you don't mind that I pulled out a couple of your texts - I think I've found one of Bartolomew's studies of language that may help."

Rupert nodded, "I can think of a few others that might help. I'll know more when I see it. Where did it originate?"

Daniel shook his head, "I can't tell you. Classified. All I can do is show you."

Rupert maneuvered around a corner, pulling into a lot beneath a lit, rotating sign advertising "_El Jardin". _The lot was more full than empty, and Daniel waited as Rupert cut the engine. His friend remained sitting, turning finally to look over Daniel, "Why do I have the feeling you haven't the authorization to be carrying around the texts that are sitting in my apartment?"

"Because I don't" Daniel confessed, smiling genuinely.

"I'm not going to be hunted by your elite government forces for this, am I?" Rupert checked, serious, surprising Daniel.

Daniel raised a brow. No one he knew would care that he had done this so long as it didn't go further than Rupert; "No. As long as you don't go public with any thing."

Rupert nodded. "I'll hold you to that."

That was easier than Daniel had hoped for - but why his friend was more concerned by the military than by the source of the texts was not what Daniel was expecting.

"Come one. They do rather excellent mahi-mahi tacos. And that isn't the culinary travesty that it sounds like it ought to be."

Daniel opened his own door, using the door frame to help himself up out of the deep seat. Both men slung shut doors, and again, Daniel noticed Rupert didn't bother asking Daniel to lock the door nor did he lock his own. Daniel supposed that the citroen made a poor car to boost, not with so many high end cars carefully spaced inside the white lines of the lot.

Daniel obligingly hurried around the car and caught up with Rupert, joining him as two young couples hurried out of the door and towards their cars. Rupert looked them over with a critical gaze, then turned to offer an easy smile, catching the door and leading the way into the restaurant, the aroma wafting out making Daniel's mouth water.

"Come on. They know me here."

Daniel nodded, realizing he was figuratively starving, and followed along after the host who did indeed know Rupert, leading the way to a corner table with a smile, and teased about some thing Daniel didn't catch as he was eyeing the table to their immediate left and wondered how rude it would be to point and order while being seated…


	4. Chapter 4

This really could have been edited into chap. 3 so, as consolation, I'm offering up chapter 5 too :)

Thanks for all the posts and adds! It's giving me a big happy! I promise the rest of Sunnydale with come out to play, it's the chapters I'm working on cleaning up and hoping to post at the end of the week.

Enjoy:

4.

Daniel lifted another chip, munching on it slowly, washing it down with the middle of his third beer. His stomach was full. His plate had been emptied, chips used to scoop the end of the rice and beans and ect. that had spilled out of the chimi-chonga and now he was out of that too.

The restaurant retained near-full capacity thru out the night, it now a good two hours later, and all was right with his world. Rupert was recounting the end of Bailey Smith, a rather officious man who had liked chasing Daniel out of rooms in the British Museum for any slight, and with particular zest when the correct paperwork had not been signed, stamped, and notarized.

Daniel was delighted to hear of how the man was tossed out 'arse first', and Rupert told a rather good story. Daniel joined in with a laugh at the end, remembering Camille as well, and overly happy on her behalf that Bailey ended with such an egregious egress…

Their waiter returned, nodding happily to both, "Do you want dessert tonight?"

Rupert shook his head, "No but I'll have the usual order to go."

Bert nodded, turning to Daniel. Daniel shook his head, "I'm finished. Thank you."

Bert nodded, taking his leave.

"How often do you come here?" Daniel asked.

Rupert's expression fell, "Not as often as of late, but I used to come here a couple of times a week."

"What changed?" Daniel asked, leaning back in his chair.

Rupert tilted his head, "The company" lifting his own beer to take a draw.

Daniel considered this, "Am I filling in for someone?"

Rupert barked out a loud laugh, his laugh erupting and filling the air around them. "I suppose you are" he shared after the laugh passed. Daniel leaned forward, curious.

"I was seeing someone" Rupert admitted, "but she recently discovered she didn't particularly agree with my past. I'm on, what the children are referring to, as 'a break'."

Daniel took this in, nodding sagely himself, feeling full of food and beer and camaraderie.

"What happened?" Daniel asked.

Rupert shifted, "I had a few old friends look me up. It was a part of my past I had hoped to leave behind, but the past is a curious thing, and it will have its pound of flesh for any deed left undone" he finished a bit bitterly.

Daniel nodded along with the words, realizing he needed context. "Friends from England, I assume?"

Rupert nodded. "The children have forgiven me, which is more than I can ask for, and matters more than Jenny, but, still-"

"You miss her?" Daniel offered. He understood missing a companion in one's bed. He still woke with Shau'ri's name unspoken, lodged in his throat.

"Quite" Rupert agreed.

"You keep saying children…" Daniel hung out, hoping his friend would elaborate, and save him the embarrassment of trying to ask.

"Yes; Students who I have become particularly fond of… and none of them children, really, when one takes a moment to consider…"

Daniel loosened, relieved he had not missed or forgotten some familial tie he should be aware of. "So you like teaching, then? It's agreeing with you?"

Rupert considered Daniel, considered the question before answering, "I don't really hold class, but, yes. I do. I have, … I feel, I have found a place for myself here."

In Daniel's mind, it clicked; Giles' named what was different from what Daniel had recalled of Rupert in London: he had found his place -In a small town, virtually unknown up the 101 north of LA, in a high school library, Giles had found his place.

Daniel smiled, wondering why it was here Giles had come to find himself here; Daniel daren't share how he'd found his own place where he had: that was classified. Instead Daniel settled for "I understand."

Rupert's eyes turned sharp, bright, assessing, and Daniel felt they were capable of scanning his mind and soul, "Yes, I believe you do."

Rupert's grin turned up higher, nearly predatory, "You wrapped away in things too classified to tell me and I, here, living as an American Gothic."

Daniel smiled along, and nodded, and felt happy. This was his best vacation to date.


	5. Chapter 5

5.

The phone was ringing. Daniel rolled over, reaching automatically for his bedside table on the left. The phone rang again, and his hand kept waiving in empty air where his night table should be. He opened his eyes. He was in the dark, odd shadows of neon-navy light dancing before him while his hand continued reaching benignly. He took a breath and noticed the air was different.

Sound: steps pounding on stairs above him, coming down, the phone rang again, and Daniel remembered he was not at home. It was not base calling for him to assist in a translation that had to be done to solve or save or understand NOW. It was Rupert's phone, and Rupert had tucked Daniel soundly in his guest room, and, now, Rupert was descending from his loft to answer his phone. The phone rang once more, and then Daniel made out the indistinct tones of Rupert speaking.

Daniel rolled onto his back from his stomach, folding his hands over his chest, looking blindly at the Rouault ink-blot shaped iron-colored shadows moving over dark walls. He remembered; how he was on vacation, how they had come home from the restaurant and Rupert had decanted several fingers of amber scotch in a low ball cut glass for each of them as they'd talked for another hour or so.

The scotch had been beyond Daniel's limit, it seemed, as it had drawn opalescent curtains over his memory of their evening. Still, his stomach was agreeably full and the night scented with gardenia and cut grass, and he was wrapped in crisp sheets on a firm mattress.

Daniel decided this was his best vacation to date.

He relaxed, feeling as if floating over the firmness of the mattress, the sheets comfortably cool against the heat of the night.

Thru the walls, Rupert's voice continued, and Daniel wondered if this is why he looked un-slept. This, Daniel reached right and lifted close his travel alarm clock in deference to his myopic vision, this two : forty call…

Who was calling at two : forty? The woman… Jenny?

Daniel shifted, listing to the sheets snap and rustle with his limbs, unfolding his fingers from the travel alarm as he carefully placed it back on the night stand.

Silence descended, and Daniel supposed Rupert had hung up. He listened closely, and made the sounds, in a bit, of ascent on the wooden stairs, much softer than the descent had been. Well, there was no hurry, no ringing phone, hurrying Rupert forward.

Daniel let his mind drift, and his mind noticed the tightness of his bladder. Daniel huffed, considering if he really needed to rise.

He pondered, watching the shapes in the dark, and decided he could sleep more comfortably afterwards. So he swiped off the sheet, it rustling aside, and settled his feet on the cool tiles, which felt nice. Despite his blurred vision, he let his glasses lay, and used a hand to navigate the doorway to the hall to the bathroom.

Here, he shut the door and flicked on the light. Looming before him was a white target of a blurred porcelain, keeping himself steady by marking the wall above the toilet ank as if giving the wall behind his benediction.

His urine hit the water with a loud, echoing, cascade and Daniel was pleased. His bladder empty he flicked off the light with a swipe, staggering in the darkness even as he found his guiding wall, a bit more drunk than he'd realized.

Morning might hurt at this rate.

Daniel let his feet return him to bed, falling into it and drawing the sheet over himself, falling back into sleep.

Morning arrived with a cacophony of birds and the bitter aroma of dark tea. And light, bright washed clear light, morning sun light was blinding him.

Daniel rolled off his back onto his stomach with a moan, flexing to stretch muscles. He felt heavy and deeply rested and slow in a rather delicious, parched way.

Daniel flung out a hand, pulling his glasses onto his face, and that hand rubbing the stubble of his jaw, the shadow of growth an irritation as he bent the follicle the wrong way in his scrubbing grope. He grimaced, and swallowed, flipping to sitting, his throat sandy and dry. He hoped he hadn't snored.

He had popped his antihistamines before taking to the air, and he was due for his next dose at breakfast; but he did know, thanks to his team, he did generally grizzle out a consistent snore no matter what dosage he partook.

The two : forty a.m. call surfaced in his memory, and the dinner preceding, the conversation in the middle coming last. Daniel flung wide his arms, working to stretch and open the muscles and joints of his shoulders, arms, and upper back now that he was upright.

He heard noise about the kitchen. Daniel took to his feet, praying his English Host had coffee, in any form; he'd even take instant at this rate.

Daniel shuffle into the brightly sunlight living room, his bare feet whispering millimeters above the floor with every step, taking in each sight as if he were assessing a dig:

Rupert was in a cleanly starched oxford, white with thin brown stripes, and a sweater vest and tie, his shoes beating softly over the floor inside the alley of his kitchen. There was a plate of cut fruit, three kinds of jam, and a jade cup filled with tea all resting on the breakfast bar.

Rupert found Daniel as soon as he entered his view, giving the man a brief once over, nodding to the stool on the outside of the pass thru, "Do you like eggs?"

Daniel altered his path a degree to end at the high chair and nodded at the voice. A few more steps and he sat, a glass of orange juice appearing near his left hand.

Daniel wrapped the glass in his grasp, pulling it closer over the tile, and considered the orange juice in the green glass on the moss glazed tiles.

"I'm due in in twenty minutes. If it weren't for _Herr_ Snyder I'd not care, but he takes a rather peculiar enjoyment from catching me in the wrong and I'm loathe to give him any munition."

"Herr Snyder?" Daniel repeated, grabbing a piece of toast and taking a bite, finding it agreeably buttered as he stared at the array of jams, considering picking one.

"Yes. The man lives down to ever utterance disparaging him."

The bright bite of the Englishman's tongue helped to wake Daniel further. He washed back the toast with a slug of juice, and Rupert scrapped half a skillet of eggs onto the empty plate between them, turning his back to dump the end of the skillet on a plate by the stove. Rupert turned around, standing opposite Daniel, taking up his own fork and spearing a knot of cooked egg on it's tongs.

Daniel followed, burrowing his fork under a rounded mounded mass of lightly yellow egg, lifting it to his mouth, tasting egg, salt, pepper, … and onion… He chewed, using his toast to move more egg about his plate.

"Take what ever texts you please. I can leave campus around ten : forty-five, and needn't be back until quarter after noon."

Daniel nodded, watching Rupert polish off his plate and upend his tea, and walk briskly around the counter and behind him to reach the door. Still feeling slow, Daniel regarded his friend readied for work, slinging a tweed, elbow patched jacket over his arm with his briefcase, and nod in the shadow of the door.

"I'll see you about eleven, then? Call for anything."

Daniel must have nodded because Rupert was out the door, truly blinding light shunting his pupils for an instant, and Daniel's sight came back to the plate before him, the toast in his hand, and his craving for good, black coffee.

He needed a shower. Then he needed to fine a coffee shop.


	6. Chapter 6

Again: thank you to every one for your interest in this little venture. I think (hope) every one will enjoy more people jumping in. Folly is fairly short and I'm clunking out a sequel but Please weigh in: what do you like about this so far? What could there be more of? I promise - not so much establishment, everyone one is up and running from get-go and I've got a fairly lucid plan from start to end, but I'll value any feed back. In the mean time: a tiny teaser for Folly: 2 is at the end.

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6.

"You can't say where this was found?" Giles looked up, papers of rubbings from PX3-031 spread around him. PX3-031 had been an abandoned Gate, a metropolis of mammoth architecture in gleaming rose-quartz and white marble were he'd convinced Jack that they needed to spend four days before a second team was sent to more fully document the planet.

Giles had already given Daniel the keys he'd needed on a text that had been frustrating him for a year, and Daniel had been flying thru the rubbings, finally able to translate them sensibly. Now, Daniel looked across the table, looked at the papers Giles had his hands on.

Daniel shook his head, offering up a slight smile. Giles just shook his head, making a grumpy sound, "I could help you much better with more to go on…"

Daniel's smile widened, "You get as much background as I do when it come to figuring this stuff out."

Giles glared at Daniel, clearly not believing Daniel, and Daniel could only think of how many worlds they'd happened onto where civilizations had risen and fallen and all that remained of the people was their shifting of the earth, the language they'd pounded into stone, what they'd drawn out of the ground to change for their use and the land had yet to reclaim -

"This is clearly a derivative of Latin, but none I've ever encountered before. It isn't archaic Latin, but from how the context lands it is clearly an outgrowth from very early in the period of the language-"

There was a knock at the door.

Giles was not Sam, but that did not mean he did not know when there was significant obfuscation occurring. Daniel had never withheld anything from the man before. Daniel decided, here and now, being on the wrong side of Giles may be as dangerous as being on the wrong side of Carter.

Both Giles and Daniel looked at the door, Giles flashing a look at Daniel that he wasn't forgetting his line of inquiry, and Giles stood, his fingers leaving off his places in the text, rose and answered the door.

Daniel breathed more easily at the reprieve, and turned back into his translating with appreciation for Giles' skill; another paragraph was falling into coherency and Daniel was sure he was translating a public announcement; at the door "Rupert… " a woman's voice spoke...

Daniel kept his head down; "Jenny. Please, come in" Giles entreated.

Daniel glanced up and saw a lovely woman, dark hair, dark eyes, self possessed standing in the doorway, a woman who only had eyes for Giles. He dove his head forward, focusing on his work in an effort to extend them privacy.

He heard her enter a step, but not the door close, and then Jenny spoke up, "I - you have company. I should have called first…"

"No, Jenny. He's an old friend, from London" Giles explained.

Now Daniel did look up, giving a slight wave and benign smile, "Hi. Daniel" he announced helpfully.

Jenny looked back to Giles, and Daniel saw her hesitancy build. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything-

"Jenny -" Giles shot a look over his shoulder, glancing over the table full of texts, and then placing a firm hand on the door, stepping out, Jenny moving back a step with him, and he closing the door to their conversation.

Daniel gave up translating for the moment, relaxing his twisted stance to slouch and stare at the wall. Daniel had not asked, last night over dinner, what caused Jenny to seek her distance from Giles - what in Giles' past had reemerged to upset her, and apparently his students…

Daniel couldn't imagine what might be in the past of the former curator of the British Museum to create such upheaval; certainly to hold such a position one must have many accolades and accreditations - and Daniel realized how little he knew the history of his friend beyond bending his ear while in London as he drove to prove pyramids were space ships. Daniel shifted, glancing at the phone, wondering if a quick call to Sam could be forgiven.

He decided not to any how. He threw a quick wonder at how Jack and Teal'c were progressing on their vacation. That Sam had on hand three different books: Boundary Waters, Lake Superior, and fresh water sport fishing - when he dropped by her office Daniel didn't question. He'd interrupted her, she'd nodded at the small stack just inside the door with a glint in her eye and the corner of her mouth dimpling in a withheld smile, he'd picked them up and added them to the small pack he was sending out with Teal'c, and whistled, yes, whistled, as he'd made his way to Teal'c quarters.

Daniel had found the Jaffa regarding his mostly packed suite case with a critical eye, turning to greet Daniel, and then take the books and maroon and gold sweater from Daniel with a look of appreciation. Daniel wished he'd had more time to order a hat with gopher ears attached to send Teal'c to Minnesota in, but the appreciative interest Teal'c had taken in the books Daniel decided was repayment enough for Jack.

The phone ringing startled Daniel from his musing, and he lifted it to his ear before he'd realized he'd gone and answered his friend's phone. A look to the front door showed both Giles and Jenny still outside, and, an inch from his ear, a voice was already talking rapidly thru the phone at him:

"Giles, it's Willow, I know I don't usually ever call you unless something is wrong with Buffy and she asks me to, but nothing is wrong with Buffy, so that's not why I'm calling- Buffy's fine. At least I hope she's fine. She was though, when she left for patrol, and she did all of her French before she left, but after she left I was working on some extra credit for Miss Calendar and I sorta, well, I found something…"

Daniel listened, overwhelmed into silence, staring straight ahead as his brain tried to follow along with even a quarter of what had just spilled out into his ear.

"Giles?" Willow asked.

"Giles Residence" Daniel finally answered her, "I'm Daniel, though."

A beat of silence met him across the wire, then Willow spoke up, "Giles' friend? From England?" she asked carefully.

"I'm American, but we met when I was living in London..." Daniel filled in.

There was another beat of silence over the line, and Daniel felt like the girl was deciding something before she spoke again, "Can you put Giles on. Its kind of urgent."

Daniel looked at the closed door, loath to interrupt his friend if he were mending things with Jenny, "Can he call back? He's busy at the moment."

"What's he doing?" Willow asked bluntly.

Daniel wondered what to tell the girl, what Giles might want him to tell a student, and came up blank, "How about he calls you back? You said your name is Willow? Does he have your number?"

"He does" the teen said in a rush, hanging up on Daniel.

Daniel replaced the phone, bemused, and glanced again at the close front door. He wondered if the girl had a crush on her librarian, she'd ended the call so abruptly at the end. He shook his head, standing to stretch his legs, walking to refill his glass with water, and resettling to dive back into the text.

Giles really, truly, had a genius for languages, Daniel thought, the rest of the article he had been working on falling into coherency remarkably quickly…

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[promised teaser for Folly: 2. This may or may not appear in a sequel. But it probably will - 'cuz it makes me laugh]

"So, how's adult play time going?" Buffy asked loud enough for the room to hear, innocently crunching on a chip.

Giles rolled his eyes, Daniel speaking up hesitantly, giving a small waive, "Hi Buffy, it's nice to see you again."

"Dr. Jack" Buffy greeted sunnily, between crunches.

Jack swallowed a cough as Daniel glanced to Rupert, then back to the blond, "Dr. Jackson" he corrected, feeling his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Daniel didn't dare look at his team. He had a feeling _Dr. Jack_ had just replaced _Space Monkey_ for the next few weeks.


	7. Chapter 7

"Giles!" knock, knock, knock, "Giles, I, um… I have those late books!" knock, knock!

Giles leaned out to look over the breakfast bar to the front door, and then around to Daniel with a surprised expression, "I do believe this is the most company I've had drop by since I've moved here…"

The knocking continued, the voice yelling thru, "Giles?" then to unseen company, "Why am I the one knocking? Shouldn't it be Buffy?" Daniel recognized the slightly muffled voice - it was the girl who'd answered the phone when he'd called from the airport - the girl who wanted to know if he was a friend from England

"Incase what ever's behind the door is a possessing mood" a boy answered and Daniel wondered how many were on the other side of the door.

Giles settled the kettle with a clatter, hurrying around the counter out of the kitchen to his door while from the other side: "We don't even know for sure Giles is in there"and Daniel knew that voice too - he'd just heard it and Daniel suddenly remembered the call he'd forgotten to mention as the first girl spoke: "Oh, I am so not going first. Buffy goes first. You all keep touting her as the chosen one, so I choose she goes first" and Giles swung the door open, blocking the entrance with his body.

"Cordelia… and, every one" Giles greeted.

"Giles, you're here. Are you okay?" Cordelia asked, sounding more put out than anything else.

Daniel leaned out to peer around Rupert, wincing a bit at the tone of the beautiful brunette standing tall just outside, clearly the loudest voice in the group.

"Yes, Cordelia, I'm fine." Giles answered her patiently, and then suffered her to push him aside as she entered, looking over the apartment with a critical eye, her gaze passing over Daniel as if he were part of the furniture. Daniel watched as her eyes circled again to settle on him, giving him a once over that reminded of Daniel being gawky, insecure, and scrawny at fourteen. He sat a bit straighter, grimacing mentally that he did so.

Cordelia looked over the books at the table, and then again at him, disdain clear in her appraisal, and remanded herself to lean on the counter as the rest of the teens tromped into the room.

"Why are you all here?" Giles asked, a bit bewildered by their sudden company.

A slight red-head spoke up, her hands holding tightly to the straps of her back-pack, "You never called back" she told him earnestly.

"Hum?" Giles asked, a bit lost.

"I called here. And your friend said you were busy, but he'd have you call back, but then you didn't, and, well, after these last couple of weeks with Buffy and the Order of Taraka and Ethan still alive at large, I just sort of, well, panicked" the red-head expounded, and Daniel placed the steam of content spilled over him from the phone earlier with a face. "But, here you are, all okay. Which you are, right?" she checked, just to be certain.

Giles looked at her fondly, then met the gazes of the other two, a tall, brightly dressed boy just behind her shoulder and a very slight blond in black. Giles met the blond's eyes last, and it was with him smiling at her, and she returning his smile that the crew of teens relaxed, even the loud-mouthed brunette.

"I am fine, Willow" Giles reassured her. "You need not have rounded every one up on my behalf."

Willow gave him a shaky smile and Daniel wondered if perhaps the girl did have a crush on GIles as the boy spoke up, "Nonsense. We were all rounded, already. We just moved... Except for Buffy, who was out doing that thing she does…"

"Please, Xander, you called me panicking, demanding I help you track Buffy down and drive you all here" Cordelia corrected. "We drove thru four different cemeteries…"

Daniel couldn't help glancing at the slight blond, wondering why every one would go looking for her in cemeteries, her catching his gaze and self-consciously adjusting a black bag over her shoulder, shifting from foot to foot.

"Be that as it may be" Giles interrupted, "Now that you are all here, may I introduce a _good_ friend: Everyone: Daniel Jackson. Daniel, that is Xander, Willow, Buffy, and Cordelia" he pointed at each in turn. Xander looked him over, then nodded and moved around for the counter, grabbing an apple and biting noisily into it; Willow giving him a self conscious waive, Buffy giving him an effort of a smile, and Cordelia not paying any attention in the least.

"Now, Willow, I was, erm, supposed to call back?"

Daniel cleared his throat, finally speaking up, "That's my fault." Five sets of eyes turned on Daniel, and he looked to Giles, "You were talking with Jenny-"

"Miss Calendar came here?" Xander spoke up. "She letting you off the hook yet?"

Giles flashed an irritated glare at Xander which Xander totally ignored while Willow made a happy noise and a smile.

Giles turned away from the teens to Daniel, "And Willow called? Why didn't you say something?"

Daniel glanced helplessly at the text. He wrote messages down for a reason: he promptly forgot these things once he'd gone back to the text from any interruption, some times not finding the notes until days later.

Giles waived a forgiving hand at him, and then turned back to the teens, Willow growing curious over the books, inching forwards, taking up the last manuscript that Giles had been working on, "Is this Etruscan?" she asked, looking at Giles.

Daniel looked at Willow, alarmed. These kids had no business with these works-

"-Not precisely. It is the same lingual family, but see these neutral articles here, here, and here" Giles pointed at the text, Willow leaning in;

"Shouldn't they conjugate differently?" Willow asked, looking more closely.

"Yes" Giles agreed, pleased.

Daniel cleared his throat, disturbed with the acuity of the girl and that Giles was using his classified, alien texts as an object lesson. Giles glanced over to Daniel, seeing Daniel's escalating concern, and gently pulled Willow's shoulder away from the table, straightening her.

"So, is the world ending?" Xander asked, munching causally away. "Cuz, this is a lot of paper. And I don't do Etruscan. Or Greek."

Cordelia nodded, "What he said. Only, I only do English."

"The world is not ending" Giles negated. "This is just an exercise" Giles explained.

Xander gave the table a dubious look, "Like, for fun?" then turned that look on Giles, "Miss Calendar still shut you down?"

"Xander" Giles groused.

"Oh, speaking of Miss Calendar, I was working on a project for her and that was why I was calling, earlier" Willow spoke up. "I was compiling data on SunnyDale, cuz, you know, why would any one want to know about this town? You know? and, anyhow, I was looking at what had come up and I found a search had been done on Sunnydale _and_ Giles and I tagged the IP address and traced it" Willow unsoldered her bag, unzipping it, pulling out a brightly colored folder as Daniel's stomach plummeted.

"I was really careful so it would take at least half a dozen computers to find me, and you wouldn't believe were the search originated: Cheyenne Mountain."

Daniel groaned, sinking in his seat. If this didn't beat all, "I think I need to make a call." He looked at the red-head, her large green eyes watching him almost suspiciously now that he'd spoken up. "I think that's one of my co-workers. I mentioned I was coming here, and I might have made Sam curious…"

Giles was regarding Daniel with a cold look, one Daniel had never though he'd be on the wrong side of, and Daniel remembered Giles' one caveat had been no military involvement, "Let me just call Sam"

"Wills is good enough I doubt he'll realize he's been hacked" Xander spoke up for his friend, and Daniel grimaced.

"_She_ will" Daniel corrected.

Willow made a slight noise, and attention turned on her, the slight blond speaking up for the first time, "Willow? What did you do?"

Willow looked to the blond, Buffy, with a furtive glance to Daniel at key moments as she explained "Well, it was Oz's idea, really, but any time any government address searches for Sunnydale durning the next forty eight hours they'll be redirected automatically to Disney Land…"

Every one goggled at her a moment, then Xander turned to Daniel, "See, not so bad" he defended.

Daniel thought of Sam being redirected repeatedly to Disney Land and deciding to get to the bottom of it - and felt sick, "You don't know Sam, let me make a call…"

Daniel grabbed the phone, punching in the numbers to reach Sam in quick succession.

The rest of the group watched Daniel, Daniel waiting out the ringing, finally hearing the line pick up: "Carter."

She sounded busy -

"Sam? It's Daniel."

"Daniel. Hi. How are things?" - and definitely distracted.

"Good, good, but that's not why I'm calling…"

"Why are you calling?" he could visualize her finally focusing on him, on the call, perhaps sitting up from her computer…

He glanced at Willow, "Um" then turned slightly away from his audience, lowering his voice, hearing the tune "it's a small world" in the background, "Do you happen to be on a web page for Disney Land?"

Sam made a frustrated noise, "YES, and I don't know why. Every alternate address I type in redirects me here. I've had Siler comb thru the network, but it's only my station effected…"

Daniel spun to look again at Willow, her giving a slight _ep!_, Xander smiling goofily at him still munching at his apple.

"Yeah, about that" Daniel continued, "Um, why don't you use my computer for the next couple of days - and do not search anything related to Sunnydale."

"Or Giles" Cordelia spoke up.

He heard a pause on the other side, then Sam: "Daniel? Why can't I be on my computer for the next few days?"

"Only forty eight hours" Daniel corrected.

"Only online" Willow added, and Daniel repeated, "And only online."

Sam made a huff, "I heard that. Who are you with?"

"Giles. One of his students had a computer project and she apparently traced your search and then blocked any further searches on the same topics…" Daniel related.

Sam made a sound, and then he could hear movement over the line, "Daniel, a student just hacked my computer? Here?"

Daniel shrugged despite her not being able to see it, "I guess?"

"Daniel, this base has firewalls, this network has firewalls, and all my personal systems have firewalls… I doubt NID can even get into my personal files…"

"Well, were you there?" Daniel asked, a bit helpless compared to Sam when it came to these things.

"Not the point. We'll have to completely overhaul our securities and protocols… How did the student gain access?"

Daniel looked at Willow, Willow now shrinking back into Xander as Giles and Buffy eyed Daniel with similar protective expressions, "Daniel, I have 'its a small world' looping on my computer, and at the least, I would like to shut that off" Sam informed him.

"She has _it's a small world_ playing on her computer" Daniel shared with the room, then to WIllow, "How does she turn it off?"

WIllow flushed and looked pleased if guilty, "Even with the volume off?"

Daniel squinted at Willow and spoke into the phone, "Even with the volume off?"

"If I didn't have built in speakers I'd have them unplugged" Sam shared disgruntled.

"Go Will" Xander spoke up.

"How does she shut it off?" Daniel asked Willow again.

Willow glanced to Buffy, then craned around to see Giles, and he nodded for Willow to do so, "Well, if she logs into the Slave Drive -"

Daniel waved his hand at her to stop, "Computers aren't my strength" he shared, then to Sam on the phone "I'm handing you to Willow."

Willow took the phone, shyly placing it at her ear and taking Giles' chair, "Hello?"

"-Oh, Hello. Willow Rosenburg. Junior … High school Junior. ... Um, Well, Giles had some friends look him up and they cause a bit of trouble, so, I thought, maybe if people couldn't track us, um, him, over the internet it'd make it more difficult for trouble to find us, him, well, both really…"

"Oh, no. I'd never do anything like that, I never cheat or lie or hack for gain, or nefarious gain, I have hacked our city's sewer specs but I had a very good reason for that one-" Buffy put a hand on WIllow's shoulder, calming her rapidly accelerating babble, and Willow took a deep breath to slow herself, "which, I'm guessing, you don't really need to know about…"

Willow settled into the chair, then, with a Willow smile, and Giles, Buffy and Xander finally decided who ever Daniel had on the other side of the line wasn't going to run Willow thru the mud for what she'd done. Giles tilted his head back towards the door, Buffy stepping away with him into the shadows.

Cordelia flipped her hair over her shoulder, making a gagging noise as Xander began munching at the core of the apple, "Really, Xander, I think that apple's done. Why don't you throw that one out and take another hand out from Giles' fruit bowl?"

Xander took a loud bite of the core, and Cordelia rolled her eyes, "So, you actually work under a mountain? In Wyoming?" she turned on Daniel.

Daniel shrugged, opening his mouth-

"Yes, Cordy. He's one of the Seven Dwarves and mines for gold and rubies. He's Doc" Xander sniped back, "With the glasses and all"

"I don't really care if he's Sneezy or Grumpy, what I care about is why Giles has a table full of Etruscan or whatever this is" Cordelia waived a hand at it, and then, to Daniel, asked "So, what are you doing with all the Etruscan?"

Daniel leaned back, forcing himself to relax despite her accusatory tone, taking in both of their expectant gazes as Willow talked computer babble to Sam; these kids were a little scary... "These are by and large public announcements. I'm just trying to translate them."

"Translate why is what we want to know" Xander clarified.

Daniel furrowed his brow at the sentence, "Hum?"

"Public announcements on how to organize your own sacrifice of a virgin to gain wealth and prosperity?" Xander quizzed, finally tossing the bits remaining of the apple into the bin. "Cuz, you know, virginity is no laughing matter but when you piss off the snake demon bringing the previously mentioned wealth and prosperity it all collapses like a house of cards - a house of evil, over-privileged cards."

"Xander, do stop" Giles spoke up, returning to press another apple into the teen's hand, "I'm helping Daniel out as a favor, and these are more along the lines of Saturday Morning Computer Tutorials…" the door opening and closing and Daniel noticing the slight blond had left.

"So there is no dire?" Cordelia checked, standing.

Giles made a frustrated sound, "Does no one teach you proper English?" then louder, "No, Cordelia. There is not."

Willow reached out the phone to Daniel, "She wants to talk to you."

"You make the computer stop singing?" Xander asked.

Willow nodded, smiling, "I did."

"Pretty brill, Will, launching _it's a small world_ at who ever is trying to get the Hell Mouth Daily News. A justly deserved punishment" Xander continued.

Will stood up, noticing it was the five of them in the room, "Where'd Buffy go?"

"Buffy is finishing up patrol" Giles spoke up, "And then she was going to check on Angel."

"Cuz he's still all weak and kittenish?" Xander suggested.

Willow elbowed Xander hard, "Be nice."

"And I suppose you want me to drive you home" Cordelia announced, already heading for the door. "This is the last time I'm doing this. From now on, its up to Buffy to escort you safely around after dark."

Xander shrugged, following after, pulling Willow along side as she waived Giles goodbye, "I'll tell her you said so next time she needs to save you from invisible girls or home made zombie boyfriends."

Giles watched them leave with a fondness warming his heart, his loft suddenly quiet and rather empty with them gone, and just he and Daniel alone with the pounds of paperwork spread on the table, Daniel still on the phone.

Giles went back to his kitchen, replacing the kettle on the burner and turning it back on, opening his cupboards for fresh tea. He listened to Daniel's half of the conversation; Giles truly hoped Willow had not caused much of an interruption. He was quite serious about not wanting the government in his way or the way of his Slayer. That Buffy happened to make the friends she had spoke to her as a person and was quite startling in the aspect of her being the Slayer; He'd been trained to hope for and meld a Slayer much more similar to Kendra, Kendra in many ways the perfect embodiment of what the Council expected in a Slayer.

Returning to the council, tail tucked and head bowed, thoroughly demoralized and humiliated, Giles had quelled the fire of his rebellion against the council and against their methods. Being Sent to Buffy, accepting his assignment, he realized the council wanted him learn from this unorthodox Called Slayer by witnessing her sure to be imminent death, thereby finalizing his acceptance of their credo and marking his full acceptance back into his legacy.

Well, Buffy Summers had indeed died, with in months of him taking ownership of her as his slayer; but, more importantly, Buffy Summers continued to live - and defy him and the council teachings at every turn. Instead of molding him with her death into the Watcher his father had hoped him to become, Buffy's refusal to accept his orders, forcing him to work with her as Buffy, the girl and not the next vessel of the Slayer, not just another in the long line of girls flaring briefly, brilliantly into service and throwing their fire against the evil in the world, finally passing away in their own glory, well, she was reminding him of why he'd left the council in the first place.

"I don't know Sam, I rather think not, but I'll ask" Daniels voice continued his conversation. "I haven't. Have you?"

The kettle near whistling, Giles lifted it up, pouring a fresh pot of tea. He returned to the table, to Daniel still on the phone, considering his friend and the work he was helping to translate. He refilled his tea cup and took a slow sip, enjoying the flavors as the seeped leaves swelled and filled. The languages Daniel was asking his help with were genuine languages, and also, importantly, had no flavoring of demon in them.

They did, on occasion, speak of Gods from the Sky, and Giles tilted his head, taking a moment to more thoroughly examine that thought. Despite Cordelia's exclamation, Giles knew Cheyenne Mountain to be in Colorado, and he rather believed housed an American Military complex.

In the archives of the council histories also appeared a series of battles occurring in ancient Egypt, several Slayers falling to beings with glowing eyes who could stand in sunlight and declared themselves gods. The council had cooperated with a network of groups, quite unusual for the council to do, ever, and they and a capricious slayer had lead a final uprising that had chased the gods away, but the council volumes of that watcher's diaries professing no kill had been completed.

Daniel had remained adamant he was not wrong about pyramids being spacecraft. Reaching back to the current selection Giles was working on, he looked again at the Etruscan that wasn't Etruscan. No, but it could be a great, great grand-child, lingually speaking, of Etruscan.

Giles was rather certain the world would take notice if a pyramid did take flight and zoom into the stars, even in a land as big as America, where, helpfully, conspiracy theorists bred in the fringes and published every hackable government memo.

Giles didn't know how, but he rather suspected Daniel could tell him, put all the pieces together.

"Sure Sam - You too" Daniel hung up, turning to look at Giles, and found Giles regarding him, standing, his sleeves rolled up, elegantly sipping hot tea, and watching him in a way that made Daniel feel unmade.

Giles glanced at the table, and then made a point to move, walking to pull back the chair Willow had been in, sit, and when Giles met Daniel's eyes again, it was his friend who'd taken him out to dinner, the man who'd helpfully listened while Daniel strung together impossibilities that were only, in actuality, improbabilities that had happened and then been buried in the sands of time.

"I hope Willow didn't cause too much of a disruption?" Giles asked.

Daniel shook his head, "Actually, Sam didn't even realize the back-doors Willow used to break in, or what ever it is Willow did. Sam said it was a blind spot, and it only being a friendly hack, well, Sam was actually excited to find it…"

Daniel shifted, trying to reconcile the man watching him a moment ago with his friend sitting congenially across the table from him; "Sam wanted me to ask if maybe she could offer Willow a retainer? Just something small, and the two of them could do it again?"

Giles shook his head, "You'll have to ask Willow."

Daniel was learning his previous blind sightedness to everything not in his consuming passion over the Pyramids and the implications of his discovery meant for the total of man kind, that younger arrogance and naivete was bitting him in the ass here and now as he used his friend's genius to assist him.

What had Giles said, at dinner? _The_ _past will have its pound of flesh_. Daniel felt as if being here he were balancing on blades of sharp teeth over an open maw primed to snap and had only now recognized that fact -Quite unsettling.

Now Daniel considered his friend, his genius with language, the improbability of him being in this scenic if rinky tourist town up the 101, a bit left behind by the hitch-hiking wunderkind of the sixties, partially re-industrialized with the age of the computer, too far for the famous of LA to homestead but too close not to know wealth between LA and Napa Valley.

Daniel had always know there was more to Giles that meets the eye, but, until now, Daniel had not clearly considered what his friend might be concealing behind his placid, helpful demeanor.

Daniel thought of what Sam had imparted, about Willow, about what Willow had 'achieved' to used Sam's phrasing, definitely an accolade in verb-age. Xander and Cordelia seemed rather cut and dry, but they had had him on the defensive when Giles had stepped away for an uncomfortable moment - and Willow was intriguing, especially to Sam, and then, belatedly, Daniel remembered the quiet blond, the one Giles had taken a quiet moment with, who had left alone…

"Where did Willow learn her computers skills?" Daniel remembered to follow up with Sam's question.

"Self taught" Giles responded, already dipping back into the pages, neatly marking on an adjacent book his work, weaving thru the gordian knot of an ancient earth language twisted by years of growth and use, following its ebb and flow of meanings and significance, "She has rather a genius for it, as does, I understand, the boy she's begun seeing…"

"Do you trust these kids?" Daniel asked, worried if Willow had a partner in crime who was not so transparent as this girl seemed.

Giles stilled and raised dark green eyes at Daniel, tilting his head, "Not to muck about in your military?" Giles asked.

Daniel shrugged, "To do what Sam's asking? Work with her to fortify our systems."

Giles considered this a moment, and then eased, "I suppose so. But will your people trust them?"

Daniel sat back. It was a good question. He imagined with minimum involvement and the SCG doing a very careful _do si do_ not much would be at risk on his side of things. And Rupert, without knowing of the NID, was sophisticated enough to be wary of such an organization. Well, Rupert had been in England when the IRA was rather active, both sides behaving horribly, and it made a certain kind of sense, Daniel supposed, to be wary of government. After all, outside of the SGC, Daniel was still rather wary of the US Government.

Daniel nodded, "If we approach- which Sam rather wants, and what Sam wants, she tends to make happen - then, yes, we trust them to do this."

Giles smiled, "All right then. Now, I rather think this bit -"


	8. Chapter 8

Note: Thank you so much to every one who has had fun here. I know it was fast, (this is total folly), but that was 1: I wanted to see if Daniel and Giles might be viable; _yes_, they are totally viable. What do i believe the rest of their week entailed? : Daniel and Giles arguing over text and translating; Buffy caring for Angel and thus really not invading/caring overly about Giles' personal life - not too much more even though I struggled with whether or not to try to add in more. Rather: I'm filling out Folly:2. and I want Daniel to discover the dark side of Joss' world beside SG-1.

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Daniel felt the teeth of his key catch the pins of the lock in the door handle, redistributing them inside the mechanism, and turned his wrist, turning the cylinder inside the knob, feeling the latch catch and pull out of the jamb and shouldered open the door.

Inside, his office smelled of black coffee and dry paper and India ink and graphite. He stuttered in two steps, slinging off the very heavy carry-all he'd packed all of the books and papers into, feeling light without the heavy pounds pressing him deep against the floor.

A sliver of light from the perpetually lit hall fell in an isosceles cutting over the cement floor, the tip stabbing the leg of his desk. In it's ambient illumination, Daniel moved around it, over to his desk, finding his chair and pulling it out, simply sitting in the generous, enfolding dark of his office, happy to be home.

In the dark, he looked at the black lump of his bag, still amazed by how much Giles had interpreted. He had several reports to make up, and several planets and a few moons needed to be revisited by other teams now that Daniel understood better who had been there and what those peoples had accomplished.

A startling buzz emanated from the hall, _unscheduled gate activation_ a voice announced, the flashing in the corners brought a sparkle over the edges of the light spilling into Daniel's office.

There was a slap on Daniel's door, and then the door was pushed open, Jack stepping in and flicking on the lights. Daniel blinked owlishly in the sudden barrage of illumination, "Welcome back, Danny. Meeting in 10 with Hammond."

Daniel blinked, Jack smiling at him dressed in the same blue and black as Daniel.

"Say, how was your vacation with your buddy from the British Museum?"

Daniel swallowed, shrugging, "Well, it was really-"

"-tell me later. I've got some papers to gather" and Jack was off.

Daniel looked at his illuminated office, finally raising to put all of his texts and papers back into their places. Opening up the bag, he was immensely grateful and awed by how much he and Giles had accomplished, seeing the size of their work so much grander than the physical bindings and paper gathered inside the green canvas.

He twisted around, and froze. There, on a board of shellacked wood, up high on the wall facing the door, perfectly poised in the background of his seat at his desk, was a twisting Muskie, jaw open, gills wide, frozen in the air.

Apparently Teal'c had taken Jack to Lake Superior, or into the boundary waters, or some place other than the placid little pond with out fish backing up against Jack's cabin in the middle of nowhere Minnesota…

Daniel breathed out a sigh; this was better than having Sam torture him with _it's a small world_ at every turn, he supposed, and decided, looking at the preserved beast of a fish now sharing residence in his office, that the vacation was a definite win.

He crooked a smile at the ugly thing, and thought of Giles. Daniel thought he might the only man who could go on vacation, not go fishing, and wind up with a Muskie mounted on his wall; a Muskie on his wall and several new missions and a new consultant for the base…

Good Vacation.


End file.
